Carnival of Rust
by StreakingHerculobus
Summary: As Zuko spends more time with his deranged sister, he begins to doubt whether all wounds can heal. He decides to take a chance, aware that it could very well come back and bite him.


Being perfect. The thought consumed her mind. It was an obsession, all she had ever known. Nothing had challenged her sense of superiority; any problems she's faced she overcame. She was the indomitable princess of the Fire Nation. Until now there was no reason to believe elsewise.

It was her own personal hell, the prison. Not referring to the conditions; the staff was polite and the mattress wasn't bad. The food could have been better…when she ate. But she was an active individual, a free spirit if you will, though in a predatory sense, like the falcon in the sky searching for its prey.

And being confined like this, she would have rather died. On a couple of occasions she contemplated suicide, a final act of revenge on her brother, but she was too proud. The day Azula willfully snuffs out the flame inside her is the day the sun grows dark.

That doesn't mean she hasn't given up. She saw the futility as soon as Zuko dumped her off. He didn't even have the decency to treat her as a war criminal. Instead, he makes up a story about insanity and the three nations eagerly buy it, finding more satisfaction in her supposed breakdown than in a public execution.

How dare Zuko treat her like an invalid and deny her the honor of a noble defeat. From what she gathered in the beginning, he had written her off in the eyes of the people. 'Confused,' he said. 'Unwell.' And the testimony of those servant girls, along with Li and Lo, sealed her fate…and her reputation.

After that she had nothing left to live for. With no legacy or purpose, she finally surrendered to the weakness inside. There was no one there to judge her. They wouldn't think anything less of the former homicidal maniac. She already experienced their resentment and their taunts.

She speculated about what the history books would say years in the future about the former Fire Nation princess. Would Zuko censor them? Curb her role in the war?

These are the types of questions that constantly swirled around in her head. Anything with regard to her image and how she was perceived. Because her pride was excessive. And it demanded perfection.

Like her father said, 'almost isn't good enough.'

Which is where the voice came in. A frequent companion, it took advantage of her weakest moments and drove the nails into the coffin. 'Failure,' it liked to say. 'Worthless.' And she listened.

Because it always made a degree of sense and if ignored the voice grew more insistent to the point of not letting her sleep in peace.

So she tried to make friends. To do as it asked and meet those impossible expectations. 'Otherwise,' it whispered, 'no one will love you.'

And the worst part of it all, she knew that the voice was _her_. She acknowledged that fact and welcomed it. For it meant she wasn't crazy. Just motivated.

She bullied herself in order to make her do the things she needed to. It didn't matter now that the entire affair had gotten out of hand and she had no control over when the bullying ends or begins. That was secondary to the fact that she was going to be Fire Lord.

Only…that never happened. She was stuck in a mental hospital in a wing designed exclusively for her. She didn't need medication. She needed the crown! She yearned for the approval of thousands. To be recognized as the best.

But her brother had taken all of that away from her. Just as he had stolen their mother's love. Ungrateful little twit. He never realized that he was the one who had everything. He got all the attention when they were younger.

Later on Azula actually resented that he got to travel the world on an epic quest for the Avatar while she was stuck under Father's terrible scrutiny. The day when Zuko had departed on the ship without a look back, she felt betrayed for a second time. Her brother had abandoned her.

It was a lonely existence inside the palace. She quickly garnered a reputation of being hard to please. Servants were always fearful around her. The guards, wary; she had proved to be a cunning manipulator. But worst of all was her relationship with her father. He only included her in the nation's business at arm's reach. She despised the fact that though Ozai never admitted it, he waited for the day when he would have an excuse to welcome Zuko back. At which point she would be replaced.

Not that it mattered much back then that she become Fire Lord. She was content to work beside her brother. She proved it when she gave him all the credit for killing the Avatar. She remembered the barely perceptible touch of pride on Ozai's face, (Zuko couldn't see it; he didn't know Father that well anymore), but she did, and that feeling of envy once again resurfaced like a tidal wave.

Of course those two weeks ended up rather redundant, for Zuko officially defected and virtually spit on her generosity.

She had to give it to him though. He was victorious in the end. He chose the winning side. He abandoned her twice but still received the spirits' favor.

She was a loser. And during the course of her internment she began to believe that it was her destiny. Such an ironic twist for the girl who tried to be the best at everything. Poetic justice? Perhaps. But she honestly didn't believe that loyalty to her country deserved such a penalty. What was wrong with a little nationalism? Why was she being punished for believing in the only thing she's ever known?

It wasn't fair! Zuko had Uncle. And before that Mother. Of course he would find his path. However, she…she had nothing.

So she wasted away. She was sprawled out on her stomach over the mattress, her arm swinging back and forth near the floor. She hadn't bothered to move in hours.

The Fire Lord followed the chief of the medical staff through the halls. With them were a squadron of guards, though Zuko had assured Dr. June that they weren't necessary. But she was afraid to let such an important visitor roam around unprotected considering the criminal past of most of the patients.

"So," Zuko began, "Are you the only female doctor who works here?" He didn't mean to be sexist, though in a small way he was being one, but he couldn't imagine her feeling comfortable around someone as volatile and powerful as Azula.

The doctor smirked. "Are you really asking me why a woman is treating your sister?"

Zuko wanted to melt on the spot. "Uh, I didn't want to sound that way, but I've got to admit I expected someone…tougher maybe?"

She laughed. "That was everyone's first idea as well. Even some of the men were dubious about spending time in the same room as the princess. But judging from the case file, I suspected that a male authority figure would be counter-productive. Since you're here I guess you can confirm it for me, that she doesn't need another Ozai in her life." She was being bold, true, but something about this leader seemed to encourage frankness.

"You would be correct."

Her smirk grew more pronounced. "That's what I thought. Here we are," she said, arriving at a four inch thick metal door. She took out the keys and unlatched it.

"Hold on," Zuko said. "You referred to her as the princess. Not everyone does that, you know?"

She began to worry. Though he didn't seem to be accusing her, she knew that people did not go out of the way to honor the "royal psycho," anymore. "I very quickly diagnosed her as having insecurity issues and I knew that if she felt like her titles had been fully stripped—"

"You did very well." Zuko raised a hand. He nodded to her in respect. "I wish more people could be as understanding as you. But they don't understand. They don't want to understand."

The doctor smiled genuinely for once. "I do my best. Now we'll wait out here. Yell if you need any assistance." She bowed, but Zuko wasn't having any of that.

"We're in a private setting. That's not necessary. As for remaining here, I'm afraid we must be left alone. This is a family matter."

Dr. June was about to protest when she remembered that this was still the Fire Lord despite how informal he acted. Slowly she affirmed yes. "Let's go men. We'll be back in half an hour. The Fire Lord can take care of himself after all."

Zuko noticed the humor in her voice. He liked the middle-aged doctor. He couldn't have asked for anyone better for his sister. Speaking of whom, she was just beyond the door.

He creaked it open and looked inside. Candles lit the interior but most of the light was coming from the sun through the narrow window. He revealed himself, or he would have if Azula had been paying any attention. She was resting on the bed beyond the metal bars which still separated him from her.

Dr. June had explained the situation to him. How in the beginning there were many incidents involving her attempts to escape. Members of the staff, even the most hardened were quitting as a result of the new hazard. So they decided to create a barrier where people could still access her in a safer environment.

Zuko wondered how he would have felt if under impression that no one wanted to be near him. Then again, he also would have been the one driving them away. He shook his head. It wasn't good to get caught up in such complicated thoughts.

He sat down on the one bench reserved for spectators. He grunted, not comfortable with speaking just yet. He just wanted to catch her attention.

Her eyes, no longer the focused amber dots of old, lazily travelled up to him from their usual spot on a particular discoloration of the concrete.

Zuko sensed that the ball was in his court. He fidgeted with his collar, at a loss of what to say. When was the last time he even visited? The job had kept him busy and besides, it would never look good in the eyes of the public to be visiting a person whom he personally declared an enemy of the state. "Um, you need a bath."

Indeed she did. He hair didn't look as if it had been cut in ages. It did whatever it wanted. And her skin was more pale than ever. She had Mother's skin tone, but at least she used to possess a tan. She looked like a phantom, and he grew heated at how thin she was. One glance was all it took to know that she had lost her famous muscle definition.

At first Azula was tempted to lash out. _How dare he put me down when he's the reason I'm in this dump in the first place! _But she realized that her brother had said it in more of awkward way, like he used to in social situations. Some things never change. "I see that all these what? Months? Years? Haven't taught you any more diplomatic skills."

He words poured forth like venomous honey, a strange contrast to the disheveled young woman before him. Despite her looks, she definitely didn't sound insane. In fact she was exhibiting the higher functions of conversation: humor and sarcasm. Of which she was a master.

"I guess I can dispense with the pleasantries." But he had grown really good too.

"When was there ever anything pleasant between us, Zuzu?"

But she was still better. "And judging by how the temperature just increased in this room, I can take off the gloves."

"Of course, dear brother. I'd lose all respect for you if you treated me like a baby."

Zuko saw through the sarcasm. "You have never respected me."

She shrugged. "I would have, if you earned it."

"Was becoming Fire Lord not enough?" He instantly regretted his words, especially from the look on her face, but they had fallen into that similar competitive sibling routine. He could afford to play the game, as assured as he was, but as such a disadvantage, she could not. He held all the cards.

But she recovered admirably. "Yes, well you're not completely incompetent. That was Father's mistake. How is 'Dad' by the way?"

"Fine." Zuko didn't like how she was the one in control of the conversation.

"No, he's not," she spit. "I heard the Avatar took his bending. Any sane bender would rather die."

Zuko leaned forward. "Do you feel any regrets that Ozai failed in his plan to take over the world?"

"Hmph. Hardly. When have I ever given you that impression?" She eased up from the mattress and whipped her hair behind her shoulders. "How old am I by the way?"

"Uh," Zuko was shocked by her question. "Sixteen. Your birthday was two weeks ago."

"So it's been that long." She smirked. "Girls usually begin courting about now. How many suitors do you think are going to be calling on me?"

He rubbed a hand over his face. "We both know that if things had turned out differently, you still wouldn't be interested in dating men."

"True," she chimed. "But enough with the small talk. Why are you really here?"

Zuko found her sudden directness unnerving. She probably planned that. "I don't have to have a reason to visit my sister." But he wasn't going to back down.

"Ah, so we're faking family affection. I don't know if you've noticed Zuko," she intentionally pronounced his real name instead of her pet one, "that our family has issues and nothing is that simple."

"I came here to see how you were doing—"

"To see if I was crazy."

Frustrated, Zuko continued, "and to hopefully rebuild a relationship."

"That's sweet, Brother, but unless you are offering to release me then we have nothing more to say to each other." Azula's self-righteous tone suffered towards the end, as her confident expression weaned. She was physically and emotionally drained from the five minutes of interaction and it showed. She humbly faced the other direction and placed her head on the pillow.

Zuko narrowed his eyes. He couldn't release her, at least not yet. While Azula presented a picture of perfect calm today, Dr. June informed him of how just yesterday she went ballistic on a guard who spilled her daily milk.

He knew what he should say. _I love you._ But he didn't have the courage. So he left with a simple, "I'll be back in two days."


End file.
